Behind Three Veils
by hansenkate88
Summary: This story attempts to fill in the gap before Hannibal. Who were Alana and Will before? Trying to stay true to character. Feedback welcome.
1. Alana

The first time Alana met Will it was during a guest lecture she was asked to give on at GWU. Actually it was after the lecture.

She was a newly minted MD/PhD from Georgetown. The MD part had been easy. The PhD part had taken an additional five years of time ten years off her life. She had interviewed hundreds of murderers for her dissertation. She had spent countless hours in prisons and libraries. She had broken up with her fiancé when he couldn't understand why she spent more time with criminals than with him. She pointed out that he was a corporate lawyer and therefore, arguably, a more insidious criminal than the murderers she spent her days analyzing.

That had been the end of that.

She was so nervous that day. It was September, but muggy and oppressively hot in the way that seemed unique to Washington D.C.. It was her first lecture out of the safety of her advisors' classrooms. In fact, one of her advisors had set her up with this lecture series and had plans to attend. Alana had an application in to become part-time faculty and her performance here would factor into the decision.

"You need to prove you can come down from the ivory tower Alana," her advisor had said, only half joking. "You've been cocooned up here too long."

And she had. Surrounded by top minds of medicine and psychiatry and forensics for the entirety of her career; if you could call a lifetime of academics a career.

She had walked into the classroom with her palms sweating and her heart beating in her chest. She couldn't get the computer to work correctly. Why was that? Whenever a lecture began it seemed that she was made entirely of magnets. Once she started, though, she lost herself in the words. The words were familiar and comforting. The authors she cited were like old friends. After it was over she even had a few eager students stop by the podium to ask her questions. Her advisor had told her she did well, but to be sure to prepare as well for next week. She was exhausted and elated at the same time.

Alana packed up her notes and walked up the steps of the lecture hall. She could smell the deodorant from under her suit jacket. She couldn't wait to get home and shower. She had a new IPA she wanted to try, and the shower would be a great place for a first sip. At 27 Alana was still a proponent of drinking beer in the shower. And then a long, long, sleep. She had a colleague covering her clinic this afternoon, so she had no further responsibilities.

And then she met Will. Although she wouldn't know his name for another three months.

"You shouldn't be so nervous," he said.

She jumped a little with surprise; she hadn't seen him and his voice jarred her from thoughts of her air-conditioned apartment. He was sitting at the last table in the lecture hall with notes spread in front of him.

"What?" she asked reflexively, even though she had heard him.

"You shouldn't be so nervous, " he repeated, not looking up from his notes, "you did a good job for your first time."

"It was that obvious, huh?" Alana smiled, and expected the man to look up at her. He didn't. There was a pause that was a little too long before he replied.

"No. Not obvious. I just sometimes notice things that aren't that obvious." He looked up then, and his eyes brushed over hers, not quite making contact before settling someplace over her left shoulder, "I'm sorry, was that rude?"

"Not at all, it was nice. Thank you."

"I can't always tell." His eyes brushed back past hers before settling back on the papers in front of him.

Alana shifted back and forth on her new heels. They were pinching her toes and rubbing the area over her Achilles tendon raw. She didn't like wearing heels. If she hadn't been so distracted, and so tired, she may have been more curious. But she wasn't just then. She was tired of thinking.

"Thanks again. I'll be back next week. Less nervous, hopefully."

The man didn't say anything. It was as if he had forgotten she was there. She didn't take it personally. She started back up the stairs, out of the lecture hall, and back into the oppressive heat before heading down into the bowels of the Foggy Bottom metro station.


	2. Will

p class="MsoNormal"Will first met Alana at a course he was being required to take. He thought it was ridiculous. Criminal psychology. As if that was something people needed to learn. People needed to learn more about evidence and less about psychology. He wished he knew less about psychology./p  
p class="MsoNormal" Where was the course to unlearn things you wished you didn't know?/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" She did a good job, he thought. He felt her nervous energy, which distracted him from what he was trying to study, which was the use of insects to determine time of death. He liked the lab. More than he thought he would. It was quiet, most of the time. And full of things he was expected to control. Things he could control./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" His initial reservations about the masters program at GWU stemmed from resentment at being exiled from the homicide division of the New Orleans Police department. His captain had pulled him aside and told him he needed formal training in forensics. No. Actually. His Captain told him that he was never going back into the field. Well, he didn't say that, but it was implied./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "You're a smart kid, smart kids go to school. Go get your masters in forensics, then we can hire you back."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "So you're firing me."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "No. I didn't say that."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "You said, 'hire back'"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "Jesus, Graham," His captain looked exasperated. He took a deep breath. "You're wasted as a style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanYou're a better analyst. You know that, I know that, everyone knows that. Go get yourself a better degree than whatever community college bullshit you have now. Then come back."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "With what money, exactly, and I going to get this better degree." Will's voice dripped in sarcasm. Will had a build in distrust of higher education. People thought they could cover ignorance with the big name of an institution. Will knew it didn't mean shit. He couldn't understand why others were so easily fooled./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" His captain had then laid out an FBI scholarship to GWU for the professional development of local law enforcement. It had already been approved. Will had no way out./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "With any luck, the FBI will take you off my hands."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "You just can't wait to get rid of me, can you?" Will smiled in spite of himself./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "Damn. Fuckin'. Straight."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"- /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Will did not want to go to Washington. But he rarely wanted to go anywhere. He had spent his childhood following his itinerant father from place to style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanAny place with a body of water was fair game, wherever there was a need for boat mechanics. His father could have set up a business somewhere. Or joined someone else's, as he didn't really have the disposition for entrepreneurship./p  
p class="MsoNormal"His father was tethered to the idea of a geographic cure. The next place would be better. No, not this place, the next place, and the next, and the next, until he finally died of a heart attack. Will sometimes wondered whether that final next place was the one that would give his father the peace he had chased from marina to marina./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Basic psychology, Will thought as he walked home that day in the sweltering Louisiana sun, crude even. The child of the itinerant mechanic wants nothing more than to set up a secure stable place to live. He scoffed at himself. Human beings could be so boring. No puzzle here./p  
p class="MsoNormal" It took Will less then a day to pack his things. He didn't like how anxious packing made his two dogs. They were afraid of being left. He loved the simplicity of dog's emotions. Usually he found it comforting and balancing. But their anxiety made him anxious. He wanted to assure them that he would never leave them. That he was simply moving the pack, not dissembling it./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Both dogs had found him. He never understood people who bought dogs, or cats for that matter. /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The first dog, a black and white mutt of pointer/boxer/terrier origins had found him at a crime scene five years ago. She had been tied to a stake outside of a crack house./p  
p class="MsoNormal"The crime scene posed no mysteries. Gang-related drug murders. But the malnourished defeated dog had taken up most of Will's attention. She was so hurt, and so scared. The scene had been crawling with detectives, uniforms and crime scene investigators. Will and his partner weren't even supposed to be there, but it had been a slow day and his partner had buffed the call. Will hadn't allowed animal control near her. He had sat outside with her for hours. Until it was dark and his partner insisted on going home. Will wouldn't go without the dog. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanHis partner left, and Graham had to hitch a ride style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanThe episode had earned him the nickname of the Dog Whisperer at the station. Graham named her Nola. And he was given a disciplinary style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The second dog had come to him after the shooting. The shooting that had likely ended his time in the field only about six months ago. He was an old black lab. Graham had been walking around his neighborhood, pacing really. He was on temporary probation. The black lab had been sitting on the stoop of his apartment when he had returned. And when he opened the door, the lab had simply followed him inside. Nola bristled initially, but was won over in minutes. Graham named the dog Charlie for no particular reason./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" A knock on the door jarred Will from his thoughts. The dogs started barking. Whoever it was tried the doorknob, which was locked. It was always locked./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "Graham! You're not gonna get outta this shithole without some bourbon. Open up!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" It was Scott. Graham's most recent, and least repulsive partner./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""What do you want?" Graham yelled as he half tripped over a box on the way to the door./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""To say goodbye to you, asshole."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Graham opened the door and the dogs immediately crowded Scott. "I hope you haven't packed your glasses yet," Scott said as he pushed past the dogs and clapped Will on the back. Will winced. He wasn't a fan of being touched./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Scott made himself and Graham a drink and then sat down on the floor with his back against a cardboard box. Graham had never owned a couch. Or a chair that didn't fold. Or a bedframe. He guessed he hadn't really shaken the nomad's desire to be able to pick up and leave without any warning./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Shit, man, you're really leaving." Scott sighed. Nola and Charlie rubbed up against him and flopped on the floor in front of him. The dogs liked Scott, and so did Graham./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Scott was a tall, blonde, linebacker of a man He was gregarious. Socially easy. Unmistakably southern. He put people at ease. A study in opposites to Graham who was slight and quiet. Dark haired, small, and without any regional accent. Will had worked homicide for five years and had six partners in the same period of time. He burned through most in the first two years. Scott had been his partner for the last three years./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""I thought you'd be relieved." Graham said, mostly to the bottom of his whiskey glass./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""I'm going to have to start actually working to solve cases."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""And I'm going to actually have to start talking to people."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The two men chuckled. Graham slid his back down the opposite wall and sat on the floor. The dogs migrated over to Will. He patted them absently./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "Listen," Graham said, "Thanks and I'm sorry."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Scott scoffed, "Don't give me that crap."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Isn't that what people say?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Maybe but it's not what friends say. It's not what you have to say to me. Ever."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Scott had saved Graham's life. Neither liked to talk about it./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Will finished his drink and then refilled it. He let the alcohol loosen his mind. Unwind it a little. He was feeling sadness and anxiety. Some of it was his and some was Scott's. The problem with alcohol was that it made it harder for Graham to be sure which feelings were his and which weren't. It was harder for him to control his empathic appropriations after drinking./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The two men sat in amiable silence. Making occasional conversation until the bottle was empty. The sun had moved over three floorboards and was now squarely in Will's eyes. He didn't move./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Hours later Scott and Graham said their good-byes. Scott said he would keep in touch. Graham knew he wouldn't. Graham locked the door. He laid flat on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. There was a mold spot in one corner. Water damage in another. The paint was pealing and had turned slightly more yellow than off white. He was just starting to feel comfortable in this place and now he was leaving. He closed his eyes and started to pass out. Scott was a better friend then Graham gave him credit for. He knew Graham wouldn't sleep the night before a major change. Not without chemical assistance. And with that last thought Graham passed into a thankfully dreamless sleep./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p 


	3. Will-2

p class="MsoNormal"Will was able to hide in the lab for 24 months and 5 days. He loved forensics. He became convinced that all information was there in the style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanHe didn't like the morgue, but it was a necessary evil. At first he could only look. Over time, he was able to look and think at the same time./p  
p class="MsoNormal"When his masters was completed and his scholarship was up, he intended to return to New Orleans./p  
p class="MsoNormal"But, that didn't style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanAs his captain had predicted, he became pulled closer and closer to the FBI./p  
p class="MsoNormal"His last required lecture series was criminal profiling with Dr. Bloom. Will thought she had gotten better, she was much more confident. If his degree hadn't been depended on completing this course Graham would not have gone. But it was required, and he did go, and it changed everything./p  
p class="MsoNormal" At the end of the course Alana started adding active FBI cases to her presentations as assignments. Will found it a little condescending. They were fishing for fresh perspectives. He told himself he wasn't going to get involved in the cases. The first two were serial burglaries, easily profiled from the evidence given./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The last one was his undoing. It was a series of child murders occurring along I-95. The only similarity between the children was age: 5-6 years old. They weren't buried, but were placed almost lovingly with arms crossed and a stuffed animal beside them. The stuffed animal hadn't belonged to the child. The last abduction and murder had occurred about a month ago./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The case consumed him. He couldn't help it. He had needed to go to where the crimes was committed, I-95. He drove up and down the corroder. Eventually deciding the offender took children from rest stops./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Will sat in the parking lot for three days. He looked over the files in the food court, the smell of fast food sticking to his clothes as he drank weak Burger King coffee. He slept one or two hours at a time in his car. /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"He had most of it figured out by the afternoon of the fourth day. Without thinking he had drove immediately to Alana's office, event though it was 6pm on a Friday by the time he got there./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Alana was in a seminar room with a few of her advisees. /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "He's taking them from rest stops. That's why they're from all over the eastern seaboard but are disposed of in the same place," Will said by way of introduction./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "What?" Alana looked startled, he had abruptly stopped whatever she had been doing. /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Will took a deep breath and tried again, "He's taking them from the rest stops. The parents go inside and the kids get bored. He approaches them, they follow him willing. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanMaybe he says their parents need them. Maybe he has a dog. Something. They're all 5-6. Old enough to trust a stranger speaking on behalf of their parents. And they all had at least three siblings; the parents are overwhelmed and distracted. It's easy for him. There's an endless supply." Will paused to take a breath./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" Alana stared at him. He smelled like fast food. His hair was disheveled as were his clothes, "did you sleep in your car?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""He's older, in his 40s or 50s. He's clean-shaven and dresses well. He probably works a white-collar job, and it's a 9-5 type deal since all the abductions occur on weekends." Will paused again, this time thinking, "Motherfucker." Will broke off his diatribe and stared blankly for a few seconds. "The motherfucker works for the state government."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" Alana waited a few seconds, "Do you want to sit down?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Will took his glasses off and rubbed his hands over his face, pressing the heel of his hands over his eyes and applying moderate pressure. It was an anxiety trick he'd picked up instinctively and read about a few years ago. It stimulated the vagus nerve, providing a momentary break from fight or flight./p  
p class="MsoNormal""He's not just abducting them over weekends, they're holiday weekends, holidays for state employees. And he likes them. He thinks he's saving them from the pain of adulthood. That's why he's so gentle with them. No violence or sexual assault. He wants them to be at peace…" Will trailed off,span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span"That is his design." He added so quietly Alana almost couldn't hear him./p  
p class="MsoNormal"A wave of exhaustion overcame him. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanHe felt a splitting pain start from his shoulders and snake its way around his temporal bones. settling there like a tightening belt./p  
p class="MsoNormal""That's not bad Will. Sit down. I'll bring it to behavioral science in the morning" Alana said, but Will was already leaving./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Will felt dirty in every way. As soon as he got back to his apartment in Arlington and he was greeted by his dogs he felt tension leave his chest./p  
p class="MsoNormal" "They were fine" His neighbor said./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" Will nodded by way of greeting and thanks. His neighbor also liked dogs more than people./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"He immediately took the dogs on a span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanlong walk. He was trying to scrub the thoughts from his mind with fresh style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanAs soon as he got home and locked the door he took off all his clothes except his boxers and socks. He left the clothes by the door as if they were contaminated./p  
p class="MsoNormal"He showered in scalding water for an hour. He scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was red and it began to hurt, as if he could wash off the thoughts of the murders./p  
p class="MsoNormal"The shock of exiting the hot shower into the relative cool of the apartment felt good. This was an insomnia trick. Sometimes the rapid change in temperature worked. Will laughed at himself; he was bringing out all the old tricks today./p  
p class="MsoNormal"He wanted a drink, but didn't want to go back to the kitchen. He surveyed the three pill bottles on his bedside table. Aspirin, Ibuprofen, Tylenol: His holy trinity. He took the aspirin. The dogs padded into the bedroom and took their places at the foot of the bed./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Will lay in bed. Tense from head to toe. He forced himself imagine a quiet beach south of Fort Lauderdale. His father had worked for a year and a half when Will was eight. He felt of yellow sand on his feet, heard sound of the wind through the palm trees, heard the breaking waves waves, tasted the salt in the air. He remembered watching the enormous cruise ships pass by, wondering who was behind each of the tiny windows.-/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" _/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Delusion, psychosis, and reality aren't truly separated. Will thought of them as three parallel worlds separated by a thin veil. After all, what are delusions and psychosis but a small step from reality embellished by an active imagination. People wrongly tried to distinguish reality from insanity as if they were completely separate constructs on either side of a sturdy style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanWill knew this was not something the average person could understand because it is safer to think of insanity and sanity as a dichotomy. God forbid you wind up on the wrong side of the wall. Some psychiatrists thought they had a one-way mirror to view the world of the insane./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Will understood the blending of reality and imagination from a young age. He ran up against the way in which most people thought for the first time in school. In first grade he was called into the psychologist's office. "He stares out the window, he can't sit still, he doesn't work well with others, he spends recess by himself," She had said, "Have you considered he might have ADHD or Asperger's?" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""No." His dad had responded flatly./p  
p class="MsoNormal"In third grade they tried again, "He could have a learning disability, he routinely gets zeros on spelling tests."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""They make spell-check now," his dad style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span"He reads well above grade level."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"In fifth grade they tried for the last time, "He does badly on the standardized tests."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""That sounds like your problem," his dad had said./p  
p class="MsoNormal"His dad thought the same way he did./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"After that psychiatric types largely left Will alone. He knew that any psychological screening tests wouldn't know what to do with his brand of thinking./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Some people called his way of thinking extreme empathy. While Will certainly had a higher degree of empathy than most, it was, in his opinion, from seeing the world with an overactive imagination and through the veils. He had been labeled many things since joining the police force, but never style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanNew Orleans Police had allowed Will to forgo the mandatory psychiatric evaluation because they were so understaffed./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Will had accumulated only two official diagnoses in his 32 years; depression with psychotic features and Asperger's. He had been branded with both upon his discharge from the psychiatric hospital a year ago. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"They were both bullshit./p  
p class="MsoNormal"-/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Will woke up two days after accosting Alana in her office. He had stayed in his apartment doing nothing more stimulating then throwing a Frisbee for the dogs in the small backyard he shared with his neighbor. The dust had cleared in his mind./p  
p class="MsoNormal"He wondered if he should be embarrassed. He had intellectually ambushed Dr. Bloom. She didn't know him at all. He had been too tired to tell whether what he said or how he said it was socially acceptable. He sighed and he got dressed for work. He wouldn't have thought to be embarrassed if he didn't respect her. He read her articles and found her research and insights brilliant. She was also beautiful. Will decided not to be embarrassed./p  
p class="MsoNormal"On his way back to the lab that morning, he knew he was centered back in reality. The other parts, those that could be lumped together and called insane, had receded to the background where they belonged. The psychosomatic symptoms had also taken the day off. The tremors, sweats, palpitations, the nausea and headaches were all style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Now grounded firmly in reality he began to run through a problem he had been putting off. The FBI lab had offered him a job a month ago. He knew there wasn't anything for him in New Orleans. But to join the FBI was to step into the belly of the beast. With his psychiatric rap sheet he wouldn't pass the first round of screening anyway. span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanThe term "psychotic features" tended to scare away potential employers. He would probably stay at GWU for a few years. Maybe longer. /p  
p class="MsoNormal"When he saw the suits outside the lab his stomach dropped./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Mr. Graham?" Asked one suit, she was petite with an expression of cool detachment. He felt her annoyance, "Special Agent Reese," She shook his hand, "This is Special Agent Teklanburger."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Yes." Graham knew what was happening before she handed him the manila folder./p  
p class="MsoNormal""We thought you'd like to know we found him," said the second suit, a taller larger woman whose eyes held a barely contained excitement. /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Who?" He was stalling. He was at the top of the roller coaster. He couldn't stop it./p  
p class="MsoNormal""That fucking child murdering son of a bitch," said the first suit she was regarding him warily now, "Dr. Bloom gave us a profile which she said came from you."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""I'm sure she was exaggerating." The suits looked at him, "she just ran it past me for some reason." Maybe he could lie his way out of this./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Regardless, we'd like you to come join us." /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Join who where?" Graham was losing control of his anxiety./p  
p class="MsoNormal""The chief of forensics wants to interview you for an opening in our lab."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"This wasn't as bad as he thought. They were just strong arming him. It's hard to say no in style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanHe doubted this tactic had come from the chief of forensics. It stunk of behavioral analysis./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Alright," Will said. /p  
p class="MsoNormal""How about tomorrow morning at 8am?" Asked a suit. It wasn't a question./p  
p class="MsoNormal""So I get a one day reprieve," Will muttered under his breath./p  
p class="MsoNormal" "What?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" "Nothing. I'll be there." With that Will side-stepped the suits and pulled open the door to the lab. It had the same feeling as closing the door in New Orleans. He knew he wouldn't be coming back./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p 


End file.
